Pecked to Death by Vanessa Gray Bartal

She tried to see if the man was friend or foe, but he dragged her over a bump in the sidewalk and everything faded to a hazy sort of gray.
     
     
     
    “Hello. Can you tell me your name?”
     
    Sadie realized it wasn’t the first time the man had said the phrase. She came to with a start. Beside her stood a nice looking man in a white lab coat. His hair was strawberry blond, his nose spattered with freckles. “Doogie Howser?” she asked.
     
    “Like I’ve never heard that one before,” he said. “Or is that your name? Were your parents that cruel, or were you making fun of me?”
     
    She closed her eyes against the barrage of questions. “I can’t afford a hospital,” she mumbled.
     
    “Neither can I,” he said. “Who can at today’s prices?”
     
    He didn’t sound like a doctor. Was he? She risked opening her eyes again. Overhead, there were no glaring fluorescent lights. Instead she saw a cheap ceiling fan and cracked plaster. “Where am I?”
     
    “At my house.”
     
    “That’s only reassuring if you’re not a serial killer,” Sadie said. She attempted to sit up. He pushed her back down.
     
    “I would prefer you to be a little more stable before you attempt to sit up, Miss. Can you tell me your name?”
     
    “Sadie Cooper.”
     
    “Good, that’s what your identification said. Now can you tell me why you’re dressed like a giant chicken?”
     
    “I was working.” Her head was missing. She glanced around frantically. If she lost the head, she would have to pay for it herself. With a sigh of relief, she located it a few feet away, staring balefully at her from a nearby chair.
     
    “What’s a woman who looks like you doing wearing a suit like that?” he asked.
     
    “What’s a guy who looks like you doing wearing a lab coat in his house?” she countered.
     
    “I was just leaving the hospital; I’m a resident,” he explained.
     
    “So you’re sort of a doctor,” she said.
     
    “A doctor with training wheels,” he said. She liked his self-deprecating sense of humor. Most doctors she had dated had been filled with egotistical self-importance.
     
    “And your hobby is to stop at the side of the road and drag hapless chickens to your car.”
     
    “Exactly,” he said. “You would be surprised how many oversized chickens die for lack of good medical care. It’s a specialized area, but one I find rewarding. Do what you love and the money will follow—that’s my motto.”
     
    “Never look a gift doctor in the mouth, that’s mine. Thanks for helping me out. I really cannot afford to go to the hospital.”
     
    “Who says I’m not charging for services rendered?” he said.
     
    “The same person who said you can’t practice medicine without a license,” she said. “Don’t try to fool me; you wanted extra practice at home so you can impress the other residents with your expertise.”
     
    “You caught me,” he said. “Tomorrow is mascot day, the day we treat all the area restaurant mascots. Whoever treats the most chickens at the end of the day is the winner—I’m one up on the competition.”
     
    “So when you think about it, I’m doing you a favor. You should be paying me.”
     
    “I should,” he agreed. “You’re undoubtedly the prettiest chicken I’ve ever dragged here.”
     
    They shared a smile. Sadie still felt a little woozy. The ice packs he had placed on her neck, head, and feet were starting to sting, but she was enjoying the chance to banter with him. “You’re not from around here,” she said. “I would remember.”
     
    “By that you mean I wasn’t part of your fan club in high school,” he said. “And you’re right. I’m from Michigan.”
     
    “How did you end up here? Med school?”
     
    He shook his head. “My college roommate is from here. We were still roommates until yesterday. Now he’s moving and I’m looking for a replacement.” He eyed her with a tilt of his head. “I don’t suppose you’re interested.